Star Fox: Flying As To War
by Phanto
Summary: A novelisation of the events leading up to, and of, the Second lylat war Star Fox 64, and its brief aftermath. R
1. A Forewarning

_ A FOREWARNING:_

For those expecting a scripted re-enactment of the nicely drawn 1997 Nintendo Power comic, a by-the-level breakdown of the video-game, or a fan insertion of myself having sex with Fara, Zelda, or Princess Toadstool (ah ha), you'll probably be disappointed in the utmost. I pride myself on exercising my creativity with very little to work with as a power base. I believe, like Stephen King, that excellent stories wait beneath the bedrock of our own imagination and that they must first be unearthed – with an archaeologist's brush, a sculptor's chisel, or a workman's jack-hammer.

I've always loved the Nintendo era of gaming – before the finer plotlines of scripted role-playing ventures like the _Final Fantasy_ series and before graphics and gameplay replaced the perfect simplicity to _Super Mario Bros._ (died with the 64, natch). There is so little to these games – the _Legend of Zelda_, _Mega Man 2_, _Power Blade_, _River City Ransom_, _Contra_… excluding _Ninja Gaiden_, you'd be hard-pressed to point any of the preceding to be very "plot-heavy" at all.

In the time since I first read Jeff Rovin's _How To Win At Nintendo Games_ series of novels (back before strategies and walkthroughs were so expensively packaged in heavy, foil and holographic guide-books) and since I first decided the pen would be my instrument of wrath (although to be honest, the C7A1 assault rifle is _up there_, you know), I've always wanted answers to questions CAPCOM steadily refuses to provide continuity on, the truth about Zelda's tumultuous and sometimes gratingly insensible plotline, and what exactly the fuck happened to the original Mega Man anyway.

Since the big corporations decided unanimously not to provide any service – I decided, hey, what the hell, why not make up my own answers? I was told once (or read once, I'm not giving credit where it ain't due) that questions were like grains of sand caught between an oysters gum. They would itch, annoy, pain you, until finally they are cocooned in the pearl of an answer and await discovery like lost pirate's treasure.

These stories, all of them and not limited to my brief foray into the _Star Fox_ universe, or my plans to twist the _Super Mario Bros_., explore in-depth _Sonic The Hedgehog_, novelise _Power Blade _and maybe make serious _River City Ransom_, are _my_ pearls.

May you find them as valuable.

_Star Fox_ was a bit of a random decision on my part to explore. I'd perused through the old Nintendo Power comic and enjoyed the artwork (I always did enjoy their more tactful artwork, including their personal envisioning of the _Dragon Warrior_ and _Final Fantasy_ series). I'd warmed up the old 64 and blasted through the Lylat galaxy bringing Andross's well voice-acted army down in flames. And I remembered back in my younger message-boarding days a particular debate on whether or not Doctor Albert William Wily could outsmart the mad-ape in question. For the fun of it, I stood behind the monkey man, and me and my friend Cameron unearthed theories on biogenetics, biological reincarnation, dimensional physics… anything we could use of the ridiculous and fictionalised realm of Nintendo in order to transfer it to a scientific spectrum and, well, beat out that loud bastard Cody.

I won't say there was _pride_ in it – never did see the king of the jungle let out a roar atop pride rock on how Centaur Man's level in _Mega Man 6_ neatly presented a defiance of scientific gravity that required some kind of technological prowess (beating the highest score on _Asteroids_, though…).

It did, however, in hindsight, gift me with a sizeable repertoire of ideas at my disposal ready for practical usage in the world of fiction. And these I will use. Also, recently my interest in the political turmoil of the civil war and Vietnam era America, as well as scathing interest in my own country's more recent political failing (and succeeding) has presented me with the desire to write something out in a universe of civilisation where this sort of cold-war paranoia and warmongering can be easily put into play (while favouring the blaster over the sword). I could have more than likely built something completely unique from the ground up – and, seeing as my cover-to-cover outline of a massive and otherwise _complete_ novel on the NES _Legend of Zelda_ became in its own right a completely unrelated and original work of fantasy, there's no reason to believe this won't evolve over the course of my writing it.

Hell, anthropomorphic animals in space? I remember reading Camille Bouchard's _Les Griffes de l'Empire_, which at that age was as engrossing and fantastic to me as _The Empire Strikes Back_ (the greatest Star Wars movie, hands down, may you die if you so heathenistically believe otherwise) and _A New Hope_. Moreso, even. Humanity enslaved by anthropomorphs in a galaxy far, far away (or in a distant future, I can't recall).

Hell, that prospect interests me already.

In any case, all this put together, including a zest to create characters of unfathomable psychological depth (ala _Watchmen_, Alan Moore), allowed me to use the Lylat galaxy as my canvas.

But here's the thing.

For all you fans of _Star Fox_ who could recite to me the Cornerian constitution backwards, you will be hard pressed not to find "plot line" inconsistencies with my work and the actual "plot line" inconsistencies of the game chronology. This is my story, its fan fiction, and I will take whatever liberties I feel like or think up with the series _ad infinitum_. So don't badger me about Fox's biological uncle actually being John Steward McCloud and not John Stuart (if he even _has_ one).

Well, that's all on my end. I present to you now Star Fox: Flying As To War, a novelization of the events leading up to, and of the Second Lylat War (better known as _Star Fox 64_), including a brief aftermath. I hope I stick to it, and I hope you all enjoy it.


	2. Prologue

'_Back in those days, there was a lot of turmoil under the Cornerian political power bases, and insurrectionists, revolutionaries, anarchists, and the beginnings of system-wide acts of terrorism were as plentiful as the penal colonies they filled. History will remember the most famous of these as Professor Arganst Bernardo Andross, a scientific genius and head of the Cornerian Defense and Scientific Research ministries and all subsidiary research branches. Andross was as avid a scientist as a political theorist. Some, a large part of the Cornerian government and the military top-brass among them, considered his mind more valuable than any crude resource drawn from the Lylat asteroid belts. His betrayal was not apparent until the Venom Insurgency, in which a trained flight-team led by WLt James McCloud Sr., one of the most decorated Cornerian pilots in the whole of the Lylat System, was betrayed by WSgt Pigma Waylan Dengar while testing new interstellar beta-aircrafts designed and subsequently sabotaged by the professor himself in Venom airspace. The new flight-models, known back then as the 'Lylat Wing' model, featured the G-Diffuser, a device intended to create personal gravity fields to artificially engineer an environment of zero-gravity for enhanced manoeuvrability in combat. WSgt Pepperim 'Peppy' O'Hare was the only surviving pilot of the four man 'Star Fox One' team. By that time, Andross had exiled himself to Venom, an outer planet of almost inhospitable atmospheric and geological nature. He had been illegally and privately performing scientific experimentation and testing on the planet's surface and its orbit, and it is now believed WLt McCloud's team and their mission was compromised for fear of the Cornerian government discovering his activities. Corneria reacted, but too late – from his power base on Venom, Andross launched a System-wide invasion of Lylat, using Venom as the collective operational focal point for insurgency across the solar system. This ensuing war, which would last nine years, would bring an end to the period of political dissent and revolution in face of a far greater threat. (REF – BROWNING, Day, "The Lylat Wars" chapters 1-3, REF – McCLOUD, Victoria Vixen, "Wings: The Life and Murder of WLt James McCloud")'_

Excerpt, "_**Footprints of Conflict: Corneria in History (3160-'70)**_"

_Prologue:_

17/12/3167

VENOM AIRSPACE

Their approach was quiet in the vacuum. They fell through the unmarked, perfect blackness of the abyss like steel petals from a dark flower, their thrusters leaving soft, hazy footprints of electric blue through the starry ink. James' eyes moved across the HUD which traced itself translucently across the reinforced blast crystal of his cockpit window. The information fell downwards, flickering across nano-sewn diodes in pure text and graph form, giving readings on power levels, radar information, shield power, and anything he might be required to know. He blew an exasperate sigh through his canines. At this point, not much. The readings were green and un-distracting and dull. With an absence of concentration he worked his hands over the control handles, popping the joints and knuckles and rotating his wrists. Reconnaissance. Of course, the trained expertise of upper-echelon flight teams were required for a task requiring such meticulous subtlety, but still the knowledge that they would be scanning a dead world at the edge of Lylat raised the hairs on his arms.

Zonessean planet-wide acts of piracy and violent crime swept the marine resource-world into turmoil, separatists were rumoured to be tentatively establishing strongpoints amidst the senseless barrenness of Titania despite strong Cornerian scientific research into its weather patterns, the Katina riots were almost getting out of hand… and they were in Venom airspace. James kept his eye on the news, heavily. Since the Pandore Administration back in '59 and the end of the Fortunan revolution – a war which left too many unanswered questions piled alongside far too many bodies – the government and the people seemed to be spiralling out of control from one another. Every page he turned over his daily morning coffee was like the ticking of a watch, hands speeding across the void into some bleakly uncertain future. The Service was the only thing he could believe in anymore. But a just sword swung from an unrighteous hand would still kill indiscriminately. And nowadays there were administrative policies being legislated he had little taste for, funds being cut in the wrong places, and allegations against cabinet ministers for campaign slander and foul play. There was a dark direction laying for them ahead, but it spread into to many routes. There were people – whole planets it seemed sometime – revolting against the policies of their collective confederate government, but too many policies to revolt against, as if the excuse to revolt was all they needed.

He rubbed his eyeballs. Politics. Disgusting. He always tried to wrap his mind around them but he always got swallowed up and backed off. It was a labyrinth, like being drawn into the thick of a forest and losing your way. He thought of the mega-cities of Corneria and was again firmed in his descision to move his family to Papetoon. Almost exclusively an agricultural resource of a world, the communities were far smaller and the moral lapses fewer and farther between. No place was perfect, but when he considered the crime rate in Corneria City Major alone…

He grinned. Of course, Victoria disagreed. She'd always been a big city girl. But Papetoon had raised their son right enough. James McCloud Junior, or "Fox" for short. Well, soon to be _Private_ James McCloud Jr., he was a cadet back at the Cornerian Airspace Flight Academy and excelling, just like his old man. He could endure hours of G-testing, fly circles around a flea… it came naturally to him. Something in the McCloud line, his grandfather had even been –

_"Foxtrot-One, this is Foxtrot-Two, over._" The comm-beam crackled to life over the silence. James thumbed the SEND control.

_"Foxtrot-Two, this is one, over._" He paused. _"What's the word, Peppy?"_

_"Foxtrot-One, coming into Venom orbit. Buckle up, James. Over."_

He chuckled. Finally. Of course he hadn't needed Peppy's input – Venom was one of those celestial bodies you couldn't particularly _miss_ when tossed around its gravitational pull. It was considered the greatest world in size in the whole of the Lylat system, but so far into the outer-rim and so toxic an atmosphere and chaotic a terrain it was deemed inhospitable (and thus, _unprofitable_) by the Cornerian government. It was aptly named. The clouds, bloated and pregnant with sweeping rains of acid and noxious chemicals swept around the world's darkened skies, flickering with ionised friction - poison thunderheads against an oppressive geography of shifting tectonic plates. Despite its appearance, it was hardly a gas giant, the immensity of its crust constantly warped by varying pressure from a partially unstable core. On the surface, the terrain shifted without cease. Earthquakes, floods of toxic liquids, volcanic eruptions… it was a blistering, pubescent child-world too temperamental and dangerous to be properly colonised.

But naturally, it wasn't without its uses - when affordable, scientific experimentation of the more hazardous nature could easily and without consequence be conducted on its bleak shores. Of course, the expense of transportation and the sometimes uncooperative nature of Venom itself had over time decreased these ventures in numbers and funding. Now, for all intents and purposes, Venom was abandoned.

So why were they flying Recci? Of course, on the surface they were also making use of the deployment to test out newly experimental enhancements to the Lylat Wing, a device known as the G-Diffuser and invented, not surprisingly, by the reputable Professor Arganst Bernardo Andross himself. Theoretically, it would allow them to operate in a personal zero-gravity environment even while in the atmosphere of a celestial body. If it worked, it would be revolutionary. But despite this, the mission briefing had born all the indications of reconnaissance-purpose.

You didn't get to be Wing-Lieutenant of Star Fox One without being able to recognize patterns in mission regulations.

_"Foxtrot-Two, Foxtrot-Three, Foxtrot-Four, this is Foxtrot-One, over._"

He released the open beam and waited for the subsequent responses to subside.

_"Charlie-Charlie, make pass in formation into target orbit at grid-coordinates Victor-Victor-One-Seven-Eight-Seven-Six-Fife-Tree, over."_

_"Roger-roger Foxtrot-One."_

_"Foxtrot-Three, loud and clear."_

_"You got it, Jim."_

They began their pass, wheeling into the planet's dark orbit. Noxious wind currents blasted across McCloud's ship-nose, he could feel the vibration through the wing's framing but it did little against the power of the craft's engines or its armour. They fell in formation, James on point, WSgt Pepperim O'Hare on left-front and WSgts Rick Hilliar and Pigma Dengar as left and right wings respectively. Team Star Fox One.

The cloud cover broke away in foaming green breaks, the arcing of electricity sewing them back together in luminous, blinding threads. Beneath them unraveled the tapestry of Venom's undulant surface. Where lightning flashed, the dark shapes of continents seem to project themselves like menacing, guardian titans, their bodies breaking upwards through the fractured crust of the planet's skin and falling back beneath to its shadowy, chaotic depths like Cyclopean monsters from the fathoms of a poisoned sea. Hills and cliffs rose like the heaving of waves, while prairies receded beneath them like the tides, blasting torn bedrock and earth upwards in roiling dust clouds.

_"Don't stray low, team, keep height steady."_ James barked. He didn't want to get caught off guard between these rising canyons. Lylat, he hated this blasted world.

_"Charlie-Charlie, this is Foxtrot-Four, over."_

_"Loud and clear four, over."_

_"Suggesting ballistic eye-shields to minimise strobe-damage – this electric shit's dazzling me, over."_

_"Good eye, Rick. Charlie-Charlie, you heard 'im, goggles on, over."_

Dark crystal slid over James' muzzle. Suddenly the jarring lightning-white was limited to beautiful ivory ropes, falling across the blackened landscape like discarded ribbons. It helped.

_"Alright, Charlie-Charlie, let's get this show on the road and get the hell out of here, over!"_

_"Roger-roger, One!"_

Their thrusters flared and they broke formation, speeding away from one another like powered arrows, thrusters burning air and gas into ripples of cerulean fire.

It was time to test out these "G-Diffusers".


End file.
